


Starboy

by Ravxnclaw



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek AOS
Genre: Jim's issues throughout life I guess, Kinda stream of consciousness, M/M, McKirk at the end, Mention of Tarsus IV, Misuse of leonard mccoy quotes, jim is just a STARBOY, jim kirk - Freeform, mention of Jim's abusive stepfather
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-29
Updated: 2016-12-29
Packaged: 2018-09-13 05:54:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9109525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ravxnclaw/pseuds/Ravxnclaw
Summary: Jim Kirk appreciation written while listening to Stayboy on repeat because it is honestly a gift to the universeWarningsfor Excessive explanation of just how much I love Jim, some language, and just so much angst because my tiny space son warms my soul.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I was beyond inspired by a post on Tumblr to write this and like five other fics so thank you SO MUCH @ the OP (resistanceposterboy.tumblr.com), I was having trouble digging through my blog/notes but they deserve all recognition for this amazing idea, I was just so !!! inspired by it http://darlinleonard.tumblr.com/post/154908883799/resistanceposterboy-im-a-motherfucking  
>  **Necessary; I don't own anyone or anything used or mentioned, don't claim to, and I'm not making any money off this. I just have a lot of feelings about angsty Jim Kirk**

At the age of three, Jim Kirk asked his mother if he was even a human.  
She had laughed it off, smile wide and genuine because _'Of course you're a human, Jimmy. What else would you be?'_ He didn't have the right words or the heart to tell her that he didn't feel like a human; that he didn't want to go to school or make friends, that all he wanted was up in the sky at night. He couldn't tell her that all he wanted was to be up there, among the stars just like Dad. She'd simply ruffled his hair and kissed his forehead, and he hadn't even complained about the sticky lipstick that stained his skin when she whispered _'You're my starboy._  
At the age of five, Jim learned to never ask about his father.  
His mother's usually put-together demeanor broke, the facade was slipping in front of him but he didn't know what he'd done, only knew that the other kids at school talked about both of their parents as if it was normal while he had only one. He didn't know what he'd done to make his mother cry but regretted it, burying his face in her shirt and apologizing because he just wanted it to _stop._ Wanted his mom to stop crying when he asked where his dad was, wanted her to stop flinching whenever he smiled in that one way no matter how much she told him how handsome he was, wanted her to stop bringing home the men that looked at him like he was a mistake.  
At the age of seven, Jim regretted asking where his father was.  
His mom's smile looked forced and painted on, the mascara under her eyes smudged and her cheeky rosy, looking just like the nights Jim was awake far past his bedtime and she had an empty glass in her hand. The white dress looked too big for her thinning frame, Jim knew she was working herself to death, but the man on her arm looked like he was holding the weight of both of them. His stomach was knotting and he plucked at the loose string on his sleeve, avoiding eye contact with the man beside his mother for as long as he was possible.  
At the age of ten, Jim turned to the stars.  
He turned to the safety of space, every cell in his body longing to be where he needed to be, far away from Iowa and Earth and the rest of the world. He turned to the one place where he knew he'd be able to escape it all someday, escape his life and his family and the expectations and he'd be able to start breathing again. Jim was sitting in the loft of the old barn, feet crossed and blanket half kicked off, but the moonlight was streaming down and the cool breeze was skimming across his bare arms and it was as close to right as he'd ever felt. He knew that his real life, his purpose, had to be waiting out there somewhere, and the ache in his chest was alleviated for a few hours when he saw the twinkling of the stars.  
At the age of thirteen, Jim was a wreck.  
With his stepfather screaming in the background and his older brother breaking anything in sight, Jim was curled into the corner of his room. His wide eyes that everyone said were so much like his father's were glued to the door, straining to make sure he would see if the doorknob moved a millimeter so that he could disappear. His fingers were itching nervously at his sleeves and his cold toes curled up but he couldn't take it, hated the way he lived and hated even more that there wasn't anything he could do about it.  
At the age of fourteen, Jim gave up on himself.  
He'd grown to resent the astronomy posters plastered around his bedroom, the planet systems and illustrated lists of Federation planets that had been such a source of hope were mocking him. _You're never going to get out. You're going to be stuck here forever. You're never going to leave Earth._ His fingers were bleeding and his knuckles aches but he couldn't take it anymore, hated the way the aged posters glared down at him, hated the fact that posters were all he was going to get. He couldn't even see what he was doing, the tears were too thick and even as he tore each paper from the wall bit by bit he squeezed his eyes shut. He couldn't bear to see the stars, the planets he'd promised himself that he'd visit someday when he was grown up.  
His mom found him sitting in the middle of his floor, surrounded by shreds of thick paper and chest heaving with sobs that broke her heart. Jim's hands were clasped firmly over his eyes and he was muttering, even as she pulled her youngest boy into her arms it was like he couldn't stop himself.  
_"I'll never touch the stars."_  
At the age of sixteen, Jim left home for good.  
The door slammed behind him, two bags slung over each shoulder when he wandered out onto the road, smirking at the tire marks that had stained the road for almost ten years from the day he'd stolen his stepfather's beloved car. Walking out on their life was his biggest rebellion since that day, but his lip was bloody and his heart was weighed down with insults he knew he didn't deserve but that didn't help anything. He didn't have anywhere to go other than the service; he didn't have friends, didn't have any more family or anywhere to sleep, and the situation on Tarsus IV was calling for more and more troops every day. He didn't want to fight, didn't have to do what needed to be done, but he hadn't left himself with any choice.  
At the age of twenty, Jim was in a bar.  
With a heavy heart and his share of scars he was dangerously close to slipping out of his bar stool, three empty glasses stacked precariously on the counter in front of him. The tip of his shaky finger was tracing along the shape of a starship salt shaker in front of him, finding comfort in the gentle curve of the bridge and finding strength in the structure of it. He knew he was drunk but didn't really care, stumbling out the door with the help of a strong pair of hands whose owner he couldn't make his eyes focus on but thought he remembered muttering his thanks. He had to get outside, his whole body felt like it was ripping apart inside, the claustrophobia eating him up until he was on the verge of imploding.  
"There ya go, kid." The man mumbled before setting Jim on the curb, his bright blue eyes instinctively moving upward and his mouth pulling into a smile when he saw the twinkling stars. Everything else felt like it was melting away and he leaned into the man next to him, his muscles slowly loosening and his hands flattening out of fists because there it was, there was his whole life, the only goal that had ever mattered. When he was in space he knew who he was, he knew what he was meant to be, even if it meant burying with had happened since he left home with alternating layers of alcohol and lying to himself.  
When he spoke again, his voice was broken from the force of keeping so much inside but the man's hands were warm and his shoulder was sturdy under Jim's head, feeling somehow like something he'd missed for so long without even realizing it. Maybe it was the alcohol talking but he felt free, felt like he belonged.  
"I may throw up on you."  
At the age of twenty three, Jim was graduating.  
He was gazing out at the crowd, Leonard's eyes on him, scanning him for any hint of anxiety as his hands clapped together in support. Jim saw them; his whole crew, his whole family, every single one of the people that cared for him with only one exception. The one seat that had tape on the back with his mother's name in bold letters, the one next to Christopher Pike, the one he'd been uselessly hoping wouldn't be empty.  
"This came for you." Leonard muttered, pushing a small box into Jim's hands as if he didn't want anyone to see. Jim's heart was racing and Leonard was pressing close to him like a shield, blinding the rest of the crowd from the box Jim was opening with shaky fingers. He ducked his head down, pressing his forehead into the sturdy shoulder waiting for him and his breath caught in his throat. His fingers ran along the chain, narrowly avoiding the dog tag necklace with his dad's information on it from his own days at the Academy, an old Starfleet insignia and a handwritten note that broke his heart even more.  
_'For my Starboy.'_  
At the age of twenty five, Jim was home.  
Not his old house or Iowa, not even Earth. He was seated on the Bridge, Bones's hand clasped over his shoulder and the cool metal of his father's dog tags resting safely against the skin of his chest under the Command Gold. He could breathe again, stars and planets lazily rolling past the windows on every side, Sulu and Chekov's soft voices bantering about where to go next, Spock's hand pressing into the small of Uhura's back as if no one noticed, it all felt so much better than he ever could've imagined.  
Jim was finally home, he was among the stars just as he'd wanted to be and he was never going to give it up. He belonged with the stars.

**Author's Note:**

> I've relentlessly been listening to the same song on repeat I'm sorry for who I am


End file.
